the lives we lead (the days go by)
by Someone aka Me
Summary: Slice of life drabbles. 1. CharlieTeddy; 2. DaphneNeville 3. KingsleySeamus 4. CedricViktor 5. TonksFleur 6.DaphneAndromeda 7.PiersSeamus
1. CharlieTeddy, dragon whispers

Romance Awareness Day 23: You share talents with your soulmate

…

The first time Teddy sees dragons, he's eighteen years old. Harry decided it was time for a family vacation. James is twelve, Albus is ten, and little Lily is only eight, so they start with the baby dragons — the ones that, if they bite, won't do the same kind of damage.

Ginny stays near Lily, and Harry is keeping a careful eye on Albus and James. Neither of them are really paying attention to Teddy, which is fair, because Teddy is eighteen and he doesn't need the same kind of monitoring.

So he wanders away, and he finds a young dragon off on its own. It's scales are dark brown, but there's a ridge of pitch black spikes along its spine.

Teddy edges forward carefully, because he's not an idiot. A mistake here would be catastrophic.

The dragon eyes him, tips its head. Teddy freezes.

"Hey, there," he says gently.

The dragon makes a soft, chirruping noise.

Teddy smiles. "Yeah, you're a sweetheart, aren't you? Why are you all alone?"

The dragon chirrups again, and then hops closer, flapping its wings, though it doesn't seem able to fly.

Teddy kneels, instinctively putting himself on the same level as the dragon. He reaches out a hand, palm down. He's not sure what makes him do it — it's probably stupid, but something inside of him is sure of his actions.

The dragon lumbers forward, an uneasy two-legged stagger. When it comes close enough, it dips its head and noses at Teddy's hand.

Teddy beams.

Without flipping his hand, he slides the backs of his fingers along the side of the dragon's neck.

The dragon lets out a rumbling noise that's almost a _purr_ , and basically crawls into Teddy's lap.

Teddy falls back on his heels and laughs. The dragon curls up into a ball and keeps up the steady rumbling purr.

"What the hell?" Teddy whispers.

He hears a laugh, deep and resonant, and he turns with a start.

"I see Arriya likes you," says Charlie Weasley.

Teddy and Charlie have met before, once or twice, but he doesn't come to England often.

"Hiya, Charlie," Teddy says. "She kinda just… crawled in my lap. Is that normal?"

Charlie shrugs. "Honestly, Arriya doesn't usually take to strangers, but I was watching you. How'd you know to keep your palm down like that?"

Teddy shrugs. "It just… kind of happened."

Charlie hums, thoughtful. He steps up to Teddy's shoulder, looks at Arriya sleeping softly. "Huh," he says.

And then he puts a hand on Teddy's shoulder and both of them start to glow.

It's the first time they've touched since Teddy turned seventeen — since he could make a soulmate link.

He tips his head and looks up at Charlie. "So…"

Charlie smiles, a little hesitant, but gentle. "Guess that explains your skill with dragons."

Skills — major skills — tend to transfer between soulmates. Teddy could ride a broom before he'd ever mounted one.

"Did you know?" Teddy asks.

Charlie laughs lightly. "I became a metamorphmagus the day you were born."

Teddy laughs. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah. So yes, I guessed. But it's…"

"I'm young," Teddy says, reading the lines of Charlie's hesitation.

Charlie's grin is lopsided, wry, and just a little bitter.

"You are."

Teddy shrugs, inasmuch as he can with a dragon on his lap.

"Soulmates can mean whatever we want it to mean," he says. "I never figured it had to be romantic. Especially not at first. It just means we'd be good together."

This time, when Charlie smiles, there's no bitterness in it.

His smile is fond.

Writing Month/Dragons: 594

Auction: catastrophic, 60 coins

Romance Awareness: Day 23

Fortnightly: Snape: 16. Babbling Beverage – write about a talented person

Trope of the Month: Crossgen, "Are you for real?"

Lyric Alley: 15. Look out 'cause here I come

Sophie's Shelf: 71. CharlieTeddy

Em's Emporium: 4. Sam (MissingMommy): Feature dragons in your story.

Bex's Bazaar: O6: Babar- Write about an orphan.


	2. DaphneNeville, it starts with a spade

RA Day 24: Only your soulmate can hurt you.

 **AN** : Given the soulmate AU, I can only interpret this as a world where there is no war, because there can be no mass killings.

* * *

It starts with a spade.

Well, no.

That's not quite right.

It _really_ starts with an exploding bubotuber and a frown from Professor Sprout and an insistence that Daphne gets help before her abysmal Herbology skills become deadly.

Sprout sends her to Neville Longbottom, who Daphne could identify in passing but knows very little about.

Neville, it turns out, is soft-spoken but firm, his lessons conveyed in a quiet voice, in words that make things click together in her mind in a way they never have before.

It's not long before it's not really about Herbology anymore.

Neville brings her favourite chocolates from Honeydukes sometimes, and can always tell when she's had a bad day. He listens, and he's perceptive and sharp, always cutting straight to the heart of her issue.

He seems surprised when she tells him she wants to listen in return.

She gets the impression that no one has ever really stopped and listened to Neville before. He has a lot to say, though, once he starts.

He talks to her about Herbology, but also about other things — about what being a Gryffindor means, about how he feels a lot of pressure to live up to his parents, about what he wants to do after school.

And Daphne talks back.

One day, Daphne realizes they aren't just a tutor and his tutee anymore. They're _friends_.

From there, it's an easy slide into best friends — he takes her to Honeydukes and helps her pick out her own chocolates. She teaches him to feel comfortable on a broom for the first time.

When Daphne falls asleep on a table in the library, Neville carries her all the way to the Slytherin Common Room without waking her; Daphne isn't even sure how. She just knows that when she wakes up, Astoria — who let him in — won't stop smirking at her.

It's soft and it's easy and he makes her smile. It's not what Daphne expected when she started failing Herbology, but she's not complaining.

…

So it starts with an exploding bubotuber and a frown from Professor Sprout and an insistence that Daphne gets help before her abysmal Herbology skills become deadly.

But it all changes because of a spade.

They're in Greenhouse Three, Daphne prepping for an upcoming while Neville re-pots some plants for Sprout, and Neville asks Daphne to toss him a spade.

Daphne does, except that she's not thinking and she actually _tosses it_ — she knows better by now, she knows that Neville can't catch to save his life.

But he reaches out anyway, tries to grab the spade, and hisses in surprise.

His hand is bright red.

"Is that… blood?" Daphne asks, staring at it in shock. She's never seen blood before. It's shockingly red against his pale skin.

"I… I think…" Neville says, and then he drops to the ground in a dead faint.

"Shit," Daphne says.

…

In the end, Daphne levitates him toward the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey deals with all the cases of flu and colds that go around, but before they get halfway there, Neville is waking up and Daphne is setting him down gently and then they're staring at each other, taking in the realization that they are soulmates.

They are meant to be.

Daphne wasn't looking for a soulmate. Her parents aren't soulmates. They aren't always easy to find.

But she doesn't think she minds it being Neville.

…

When she tells Astoria that she and Neville are dating now, Astoria tips her head back and laughs and laughs and laughs.

"What?" Daphne asks.

"You mean you weren't before?" Astoria shoots back.

And Daphne thinks about it. Thinks about late nights and hot chocolates and Honeydukes and the way it feels to tuck her head into the crook of Neville's shoulder.

"Oh," she says.

Astoria looks at her face and starts laughing all over again.

* * *

Writing Month/Dragons: 647

Auction: House: Slytherin, 65 coins

Romance Awareness: Day 24

Holmes: Trope: Didn't know they were dating.

Debate: Starting, Hogwarts

Seasonal: Days of the Year: National Cheese Day: Write a really cheesy romance.

Gryffindor Themed Prompts: Neville

Count Your Buttons: D3: is that… blood?

Lyric Alley: 24. Yeah, that's what we've become

Sophie's Shelf: 10. DaphneNeville


	3. KingsleySeamus, senses

Day 31. You're without a sense until you meet your soulmate

* * *

Kingsley is lucky, really. He's born without taste.

It could be much worse. Sure, there's the ones everyone prays not to get — sight, hearing. The senses that people notice. The ones they think they'd miss most.

But Kingsley knows a woman who can't feel pain. This sounds like a good thing, until you hear the story of the day she gave herself first degree burns because she _didn't notice_.

He knows an old man who spent thirty years unable to feel touch — to feel basic human physical connection.

He knows a little girl who dreamed of being a gymnast until they realized the sense she was missing was _balance_.

So he doesn't get a lot out of food. And his sense of smell is a bit dull, given how tightly taste and smell are interweaved. It could be a lot worse.

So he grows up and he becomes an Auror and sometimes he has to be reminded to eat but really he's doing okay.

…

Seamus is born with bright blue eyes that can't see a thing.

His mother introduces him to everyone she can, trying to find the one who will make him see.

But Seamus doesn't care. He runs and plays and falls and gets back up again. He lives his life. He goes to Hogwarts.

He's not going to wait around for a soulmate.

And then there's a war on and he doesn't have time to wait because he's got a rebellion to help lead.

They try to underestimate him because he's blind.

Seamus makes sure they learn the error of their ways.

…

And then the final battle is there and everything is chaos as spells fly and people scream and Dean is the only one who sees Seamus go down without getting hit. Or at least, Dean doesn't see him get hit.

"Seamus!"

Seamus looks up at him, bright eyes blinking, and Seamus _meets his gaze_.

"Oh," Seamus says. "So that's what you look like."

He looks around, squinting and blinking a lot. "How the hell do you deal with this much stimulation? It's terrifying."

Well, fuck. The middle of a battle is probably not a great time to rewire your brain for _sight_ , Dean thinks. They're lucky enough that they haven't been hit while they've been discussing it.

"Close your eyes if you need to, because we've got to keep moving."

…

And then there is the aftermath.

There is collecting the bodies and the grief of finding out who is among them.

There are those roaming the crowd trying to find their loved ones. There are tears and screaming and the silent crumple of a face with no hope left.

Amidst all of this, Kingsley watches a boy make his way through the crowd on the arm of a friend, quietly asking if anyone else had regained a sense in the midst of the chaos.

Two hours later, sitting at home, Kingsley is still thinking about that boy.

Thinking about what it must be like to find a sense in the middle of all that chaos — to have your first smell be ash and burning, your first sound to be screaming, your first sight to be the deaths of your friends.

He can almost feel a phantom taste of ash on his tongue — like the smell, but stronger. That's how he always imagines taste to be.

It turns his stomach. He goes to bed without eating, but he doesn't sleep. He probably won't for a while.

He gets up when it's a semi-acceptable time for humans to be awake and figures he might as well see how the Ministry has fared, start working through the wreck that it surely is.

He grabs a protein bar as he leaves, knowing that he needs the sustenance, but it explodes on his tongue in a burst of flavour and this is _taste_.

He thinks about the boy asking around for anyone who'd found a sense.

Oh.

Well then.

* * *

Sophie's Shelf: 75. Kingsley/Seamus

Lo's Lowdown: C4: Toph - blind!AU

BTS: question

Slash Sept: Kingsley


	4. CedricViktor, wheel of fate

Romance Awareness: Day 28 - Everyday, you have the chance to spin a wheel that'll determine an event your soulmate will face. (Though some don't want to take the risk and avoid it).

…

Cedric refuses to spin the wheel.

He won't mess with fate, especially not a fate that isn't his own.

Nobody knows why the wheel even exists, or how it alters the fate of a soulmate even if they're a world away. Sometimes the change is for the better.

Sometimes it decidedly isn't.

His soulmate doesn't seem to have the same reservations, however. Cedric's life is a mess of crazy ups and downs — one day he's catching the snitch three seconds into a game, and the next he's got a broken arm.

Cedric kind of hates his soulmate, honestly.

But then he's just casually at his desk — because he works for the department of International Magical Cooperation — when Viktor Krum walks in.

Viktor goddamn Krum. One of the best seekers the world has ever seen. Is standing at his desk.

"Hello," Viktor says, his voice low and his accent thick. "I vas told to come here to file my residency papers? I am moving."

"Oh," says Cedric. "Yeah, sure, I can do that."

He's trying not to come across as too starstruck but then Viktor meets his eyes and the world is a brilliant flash of white and Viktor is smiling at him.

"You are my soulmate," he says. "I knew it vould be today."

Cedric frowns. "How did you know?"

"It is what I spun on the vheel today!"

Cedric knows that soulmate murder is very, very frowned upon. And this is Viktor goddamn Krum.

But yesterday he slipped in the damn shower and hit his head and almost didn't make it to Saint Mungo's.

This asshole has made his life hell with his entitlement.

And sure, he's got a great job and amazing friends and sometimes he wonders how much of that is due to some wheel of fate, too.

But he'd rather not play with his life this way.

"Please," Cedric says calmly. "Please, don't ever spin that wheel again."

Viktor looks at him with a frown. "Vell, of course not. Today I have finally spun vhat I vas waiting for."

Cedric doesn't want to soften at that.

He really doesn't want to.

But he can't help it.

* * *

Sophie's Shelf 14. CedricVictor

Bts: Cedric

Slash Sept: Viktor

Fortnightly: British Shorthair: Write about a Hufflepuff / Alt: Write about someone who prefers to stay indoors


	5. TonksFleur, disaster

Assignment 7, Performing Arts: **Task Two:** Romantic Ballet: Romantic ballet was an artistic movement of classical ballet marked by pointe, dominance, and flow. Write about making something more presentable.

..

"Fuck," Tonks mutters. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She's scrambling around her apartment, throwing seven million tissues into a trash bag. This is the _worst_ part of colds. She picks up three empty Pepperup potion vials and tosses them in as well.

Fleur is coming _here_ , and her apartment is still a disaster from three days of a cold and _all of Tonks_ ' _general_ _personality_ , and why did she not realize this earlier? It's the first time Fleur is coming inside; they have plans to watch a movie and Tonks is the one with a Muggle TV. As far as Tonks is concerned, curling up on the couch and watching a movie is far superior to a cinema. And anyway, up until now they've only gone _out_ — three utterly perfect dinner dates that have Tonks already falling head over heels.

But now Fleur is coming inside and her apartment is a mess and _why did she never pay more attention when her mother tried to teach her cleaning spells?_

She tosses the bag in the trash and pulls out her wand, attempting a simple carpet cleaning charm.

The red rug catches fire.

"Fuck!" she yells. "Auguamenti, _aguamenti!_ "

Tonks stares at the carpet, charred and soaked and still faintly smoking, groans, and sinks down into the couch with her head in her hands.

This, of course, is exactly when there's a knock on the door.

"Oh, jesus christ," Tonks mutters to herself.

At this point, though, there's no hope for it. At least she cleaned up the tissues?

Her hair is sweaty and stuck to her forehead and _brown_ , but at least she can fix that much.

She concentrates for a moment, twitching her nose and feeling the always-odd sensation of her hair receding into her scalp, morphing into her usual short, spiky pink. She can't do much about the plaid pajama pants and oversized Hogwarts sweatshirt she's wearing, but… well. Fleur was going to find out what a hot mess she was at some point. It might as well be now.

She takes a deep breath, composes herself, and opens the door to find Fleur standing there, looking stunning as always. She smiles at the sight of Tonks, which makes something bubble up inside of her, fizzy and bright.

"Hi," she says, slightly more breathless than she means to.

"Hello," Fleur says, and her smile is genuine.

Suddenly it matters a little less that Tonks is such a mess. Fleur is still here, and still smiling.

And if the carpet is still steaming? Well. That's tomorrow's problem.

….

Word Count (Dragons, writing month, auction):

Auction: TonksFleur (3.1)

365: superior

Insane House: 80. Fleur

WC:

Liza's: 6. Write a femslash pairing.

Bex's Basement: Peter

Pinata: Medium: known order members

Constellation: Pisces 6: Alrescha: (potion) Pepperup Potion

Funfair: Guess the Bunny Name: Kevin - Anxiety

Fortnightly: Zebra - Write about someone wearing pyjamas.


	6. DaphneAndromeda, dignity

Andromeda… never meant for it to happen the way it did.

The thing is, she noticed Daphne was beautiful from the very start, the moment she first saw the young woman working at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley.

But it was never meant to become… this.

Andromeda thinks maybe she's supposed to regret it. But she doesn't.

How can she regret anything that brought her here? That brought her love?

A love she never thought she'd find again, after losing Ted. After losing _Dora_.

And yet here she is, waking up with a dark mane of hair that isn't hers sprawled across her pillow and the soft sounds of Daphne's breathing beside her.

Andromeda stretches and swings her legs over the side of the bed, her careful movements still eliciting a small, grumpy murmur from behind her.

She smiles at the sound as she pulls on a dressing gown and moves into the kitchen, lighting a fire under the kettle.

Leaning against the counter, she waits for the water to boil, and she remembers the first time she had truly considered this future.

…

" _Andromeda!"_

 _Daphne is rushing up to her, breathless, hair escaping her ponytail and falling in messy, sweaty strands around her face._

" _Wait," she says between breaths. "Wait, just… wait. I need to ask you or I'm never going to, and I promised myself… well." She takes in a deep breath, seeming to brace herself, and then she looks at Andromeda, eyes open wider than they have ever been, and she says, "Will you have dinner with me?"_

 _Andromeda doesn't do her the indignity of pretending not to understand. They both know what she's asking._

 _But Andromeda never expected it._

 _Despite the increasing apothecary visits, despite bringing in Teddy and watching Daphne with him, her normally composed face breaking into a beaming smile at the small boy, despite months of lingering conversations and looks that lasted a little too long…_

 _Andromeda never expected it._

 _She assumed it would remain as it was, the wistful crush of an old woman, long past her prime, dreaming of what could have been if things were different._

 _But Daphne says it could still be._

 _And Andromeda could supply a million objections, could tell Daphne that she'd only being weighing her down, could tell her to live her life and enjoy her youth, could tell her that she has a grandson and responsibilities that Daphne doesn't need… But Andromeda looks at her, and she can tell that Daphne wants this._

 _And Andromeda can't lie and say she doesn't want this too._

 _And any one of those excuses would simply do exactly what Andromeda doesn't want to do: assume that Daphne is a child. That she hasn't thought this through. That she doesn't understand the consequences of what she wants._

 _Andromeda won't do her the indignity of implying any of that._

 _So instead, she simply smiles and says, "I'd like that."_

…

And here they are, six years later, Daphne snuggling into the warmth of her neck with her cold nose and murmuring, "The bed's too cold without you."

Andromeda smiles faintly, turns in her arms, and kisses her soft and sweet, before handing her a cup of blackberry tea, and saying, "Well, I'd best come back, then, hadn't I?"

Andromeda might not have meant for this to happen. But she wouldn't change it for the world.


	7. PiersSeamus, sunshine

PtC Piers Seamus. olympics torch ceremony: Seamus, gold

He wakes slowly, the faint gold of sunrise filtering in through the window in his bedroom. Their bedroom, really, if he's being honest with himself. Seamus can't remember the last time Piers didn't spend the night.

He can tell Piers is still sleeping, his breath hot against Seamus's shoulder, his nose mashed up against Seamus's deltoid, Seamus' t-shirt faintly damp.

It's one of Seamus's favorite ways to wake.

He hates mornings when they're rushed, but when they're soft and warm and hazy like this, mornings are his favorite time. Today is Saturday, and neither of them have anywhere urgent to be. He can savor this moment, let it stretch out like taffy, slow and seeping into every darkened space.

He can tell the instant Piers begins to wake, slow and protesting all the way, mashing his face even further into Seamus's shoulder and scrunching up his face in an attempt to avoid the sun, in a way that Seamus would never tell Piers he finds _adorable_ for fear he might stop doing it.

Piers groans, displeased, and Seamus can't help the low chuckle.

"Nooooo," Piers says.

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine." Seamus is grinning, wide and probably brighter than the morning sun.

"Fuck off," Piers grumbles. "Too early." Except he's still waking up, so it comes out more like, "F'off, t'rly."

Seamus runs a hand through Piers's hair, knowing his face is probably unbearably fond and not caring one bit.

"I love you," he says.

Piers peers up at him, his eyes slitted, but then he shifts up a little and nuzzles sleepily into the crook of Seamus's neck. "Love you, too," he says, so quietly Seamus almost can't hear it, the way he always does — like it's a secret to be whispered into the space between them, like it's still so new Piers himself doesn't trust the words. It half-breaks Seamus's heart, knowing what he does about Piers's past, but it also feels so sacred, so special.

Seamus vows every time to do what he can to ensure that he never breaks Piers' heart.

He leans down, presses a kiss against the dark hair, and says, "Should I make breakfast?"

Piers's arm, which is thrown across Seamus' chest, tightens its grip. "Mmph. No. Stay."

Seamus smiles, curls an arm around Piers's back, and acquiesces. After all, it's not a hardship to stay in bed just a little longer.

Breakfast can wait.


End file.
